Sane
by The Omniscient Bookseller
Summary: 100 Words
1. Drabble 1: Whore

Drabble #1: Whore

Thanks especially to Mondie, who basically came up with this little thing.

"Thanks, bitch," growls Blink, yanking up tight black jeans to hide his heart-covered boxers. Delving into a back pocket, he finds a crumpled twenty-dollar bill and tosses it at the other boy's feet. Mush picks it up and smoothes it anxiously, reminding himself of the promise between his fingers. He blows Blink a kiss and tosses him a suggestive grin as he reaches for the doorknob. Blink ignores it, stepping out into the light and bustle of the city street. 

Both of them turn away a little to quickly, and neither of them sees the tears on the other's face. 


	2. Drabble 2: Words

Drabble #2: Words

I like to play games with words. Always have, ever since I was little. (Fifteen). Yesterday I tried to describe Spot in one hundred words. (Twenty-six). Spot is a leader. He will always be a leader, even when he has no one left to lead, even when he is preaching to empty chairs and open spaces, even when his only follower is himself. Spot in thirty words. (Seventy). Spot is cold and calculating. He acts with motives that no one can discern, but are none the less there. In twelve words: He seems dangerous. Spot in one word. Intense.

(Hundred).


	3. Drabble 3: Yearbook

Drabble #3: Yearbook

He is grinning widely as he walks home from the bus stop for the last time. Letting himself in, he falls onto the sun-warmed couch, immediately reaching for the treasure he has waited for. 

The book is thin, it's cover a shiny, abstract design. He flips it open, takes as much time as he can to skim over the inside cover, then the first and last pages, littered with jokes, names, and memories. When he can stand it no more, he lets his eyes rove to one spot. The handwriting is ornate and somewhat sloppy, an impersonal last name.

Meyers.


	4. Drabble 4: Character

Drabble # 4: Character  
  
Note: sorry if this is screwed up...I've had to type it in WordPad, because nothing else is working. Gah.  
  
Dutchy plucks nervously at his clinging green tunic and checks his watch again. 6:45, and still no sign of the girl playing Wendy. He turns to his best friend.  
  
"Specs, would you run that bit at the beginning of act four with me? I keep getting the lines confused.  
  
"Sorry, I've gotta get into constume. Try Skitts; he does lighting for that scene." Reluctantly, Dutchy repeats the request and soon they are underway.  
  
"What are your exact feelings for me, Peter?"  
  
"Those of a devoted son, Wendy."  
  
He falters, drops his gaze, and curses himself for letting the playacting slip. 


	5. Drabble 5: Nightmare

Drabble 5: Nightmare  
  
Note: up so soon because you guys are so wonderful and review-happy. Still typing text documents in WordPad, so sorry 'bout any wierd formatting.  
  
Blink buys the newspaper from his former comrade twice daily. He only buys it from Race because Race sells closest to his new tenement. He doesn't spend his days looking forward to the few words they exchange. He isn't worried when Race fails to appear for three days in a row. When he stops by the lodging house, it is only because he happened to be passing by. He doesn't cry when he learns of his friend's fate. He doesn't bury himself into his routines because he is trying to forget.  
  
He never loved Racetrack.  
  
He must have been dreaming. 


	6. Drabble 6: Smile Part I

"Heya." Cocky grin.

"Hey Race." Cockier grin. "What're you doing here?" A challenge.

"Do I need a reason?" Raised eyebrows, innocent stature; a response.

"No, no, you never do." Wistful tone, captured and held back; a defeat.

Smiles and spitshakes. Something hiding behind the laughter in twin pairs of unreadable eyes, one black-brown, one piercing blue.

Quirk of an eyebrow, jerk of a head. Two figures disappearing around a corner to pretend that all is right with the world. Parting smiles that fade once backs are turned. They walk with only bitter, unfulfilled yearnings for company, thoughts they must ignore. 


	7. Drabble 7: Smile Part II

"Heya." Soft, guarded.

"Hey Spot." Laced with something indecipherable.

Uncomfortable silence, uncomfortable words, uncomfortable touches. One fights a battle with himself, disguised with wandering hands. One is breathing hard with restraining himself, pretending that this is exactly what he wants. Towers of brick keep them hidden from the revealing glow of the moon's apathetic glance. 

_How can I be doing this? _Cries one, silently.

_How can I be thinking this? _Whispers the other to himself.

Shadows play over their faces, darkness hiding dreams and fears that are so torturously different, for all they would like to call themselves the same.


	8. Drabble 8: Smile Part III

The moon rises above peaked roofs, suddenly spilling over into their tiny hideaway. Spot sees an unfamiliar gleam in Race's eyes, though he cannot say whether it is caused or revealed by the light. It breaks over their heads, tinting everything ethereal, and it is too much from Racetrack. One too many times, one too many smiles, one too many tears. Everything he has been holding inside, in the deepest corner of his mind, breaks through and floods into his thoughts. It washes over him and he is nearly drowning in his own desire. He throws control to the winds. 


	9. Drabble 9: School

How was your first day of school, David? 

It was good, Momma. It was good.

I fell in love today, Momma. 

I fell in love with a boy today, a boy who seems more like a god. He calls himself Jack, though all the attendance sheets list him as Francis. A good name, Francis, but you don't tell him that. He's hurting underneath, like you taught me how to look for. I like it, though. It makes him something more. Should I not say that?

He's gorgeous, Momma. The most gorgeous boy I've ever seen.

He's also very, very straight.


	10. Drabble 10: Shadow

            The day I stepped off that train and into Brooklyn had brought me wonder by the time it faded. Wonder in the forms of two boys I watched from the shadows beyond a huddle of people surrounding a small fire.

            One was Racetrack Higgins. He was witty and friendly, exuding charm and easy laughter.

            The other was Spot Conlon. He was cold and proud, exuding power and frightening intensity.

            I fell in love that night. From my hiding place, I imagined how incredibly, intensely beautiful they would be together.

            It was another few years before I learned that they were. 


	11. Drabble 11: Hike

            Over the last hour and a half, they've exhausted every round they know, one-sentence stories, and even a failed game of truth or dare. They've moved on to word association, trying to distract themselves from the fact that they are now trudging uphill.

            "Cafeteria"

            "Really nasty French fries"

            "Would you like to supersize that?"

            "McDonalds employees"

            "Racetrack"

            "Hot," Skittery adds, without thinking.

            Pause.

            "I didn't mean it like that! I mean, he's always complaining about how hot it is, even in winter!"

            He pushes to the front of the group in search of some water, knowing he hasn't fooled anyone.


	12. Drabble 12: Home

            Anthony had been the lodging house for ten days when Silver came down with a horrible cough. 

            "You take the 'tracks today, Tony," he rasped up at the nine-year-old hanging about his bunk. 

            Anthony anxiously bargained for his papers and hitched a ride to the tracks. His nervousness increased as he passed the point where Silver usually left him, claiming that this was his domain alone. 

            He didn't know, that day, that Sliver's cough would consume him entirely. He didn't know that Sheepshead would become his permanent selling spot and his refuge.

            He only knew that he'd finally come home.


	13. Drabble 13: Dream

_Spot was rambling. Since when did Spot ramble? He was rambling about how Jack had stolen Blink from him. Race didn't think Spot had any claim to Blink. It made his stomach hurt. Then again, Race didn't think he had any claim to Spot.  _

_A question registered. "What color are my eyes?" He looked. They were dark forest green. Spot prowled over the length of gray couch between them and kissed him._

Race opened his eyes slowly, feeling his heart beat settle back to normal, and wondered if this was what it felt like to come down from a high.


	14. Drabble 14: Canon

Jack gazed into space for a good three minutes after closing Order of the Phoenix before noticing that I was watching him. He looked over, hair tousled, eyes a little overbright. It had only taken him two visits to finish my copy. I liked how he looked sprawled on my bed, absorbed, as if he belonged.

"What'd you think?"

"Sirius was fucking James," he said without a pause. "Poor guy. Thought they were best friends, thought he meant everything to James, then Lily came along and ruined it all."

I returned his smile and tried not to think of Sarah.


End file.
